Page 112 of Nest of Thieves
The guy all but scrambles from behind the bar. He gives Lark a wide berth and glances at me with eyes that are hard and experienced. “These fuckers aren’t my homies.”
“I hear you,” I say, nodding toward the door.
He rushes outside and hops in a lowrider. He’s not calling the cops. The girls aren’t either. Anyone who hangs around with criminals knows better than to be a snitch, even if it might save their friends’ lives. They won’t call for help. This is a gang dispute, and it’ll be handled in the streets, like it should be.
“Now,” I say, stepping toward them and pointing the flamethrower at the nearest table. I pull the trigger and fire roars out of the gun, the cheap material of the table instantly catching fire. “Who the fuck thought it was smart to attack our omega?” I shout, swinging the flames in their direction. I release the trigger and the flames die out.
“You think you own these streets?” the same asshole from before asks. “It’s time to retire, old man.”
I give him an unimpressed once-over. “I’m only a few years older than you, baboso.” Flames crackle beside me, but I’m not worried about the fire.
“Who the fuck is baboso?” He puffs up his chest. “How’s your girl doing? I told my men to treat her real nice.” His smirk tells me what he means, and red bleeds into my vision.
Before I can light the fucker up, Lark shoots him in the head. His friends scramble back and shout.
“Boom, headshot,” I whisper as I step closer, pointing the flamethrower at the biggest guy. “¿Y tu? You think it’s a good idea to fuck with us?” I narrow my eyes.
“Come on, man. It’s business.”
“Business?” I press closer. “Sending your men to treat my woman real nice is business?” I shake my head. “That’s a line you don’t cross unless you’re trying to start a war.” I barely pull the trigger, sending a spurt of fire right at his chest. His shirt catches, and he screams, swatting at the material and grunting in pain.
“Fuck!”
Lark has the other three cornered with his gun. “Who’s the boss?”
“Come on, man. You know we can’t snitch.”
Boom. A body drops.
“Who’s the boss?” Lark asks the next guy.
This one whimpers. “I didn’t even know it was happening, man.”
“Who?” Lark shouts, his voice tearing through the tense silence like a chainsaw.
He’s pissed.
That never ends well for the enemy.
“You better answer,” I tell the guy. “He’s two seconds away from dropping you too.”
The guy I lit up is kneeling on the floor, peeling his shirt off his chest and panting through the agony of freshly burned skin.
“It almost smells like barbecue,” I whisper.
He glares at me. “Victor.”
“Ah, Victor. And where can we find him?”
The guy’s gaze slips to the asshole on the floor. The first one Lark took out. Good. That was easier than I thought. This little gang is going to be crushed before they can grow into someone to worry about.
“Do we need to kill the rest of you to make a point?” I ask.
“No, man. We’re good.”
I glance at the dead bodies and frown. “But we killed your friends. ¿No estás enojado?”You’re not mad?
No one answers. I sigh and glance at Lark. His jaw is clenched tight, and he nods ever so slightly. We can’t leave them alive, not without risking retaliation, and I’ll be damned if I leave someone to get brave enough to try and come after Jo again. It’s them or us, and I’ll choose us every goddamn time, no matter how many bodies we have to leave behind us.
